


Addicted

by DesTheNinjaRobin



Category: Robin's family, Uncategorized - Fandom, my ocs - Fandom, my own
Genre: 'Dolls', AU, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dillan is 16, Gay, I have terrible writers block, Jake is 22, M/M, My OCs, OCs - Freeform, Smut, This is what came out of it, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesTheNinjaRobin/pseuds/DesTheNinjaRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never even questioned myself anymore. God knows someone needed to be doing it because I always ended up right back at the Doll House</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addicted

I never even questioned myself anymore. God knows someone needed to be doing it because I always ended up right back at the Doll House, renting the same doll. I told myself little lies- It was because I knew he was clean or because he was barely used but as soon as I saw milky legs and the gentle sway of narrow hips waltz down the stairs, I was a goner. I shouldn't have came back after noticing the sharp chin, short stature and smooth texture of skin everywhere without a trace of hair. Hands free of calluses like he never worked a day in his life yet so many scars you would've thought he saw war.

Yet here i was, playing out this same song and dance with no lyrics;

Nimble hands and filed down nails stripped me down as I admired the way he so gracefully fell to his knees and showed me just how much he's missed me since my last visit. He works me up with blazing blue eyes dimmed by the unidentified mist the hung in every room looking for the finest reaction.

I don't give it to him.

I make him work for it.

And he does.

Its an unspoken challenge that worries me I may be coming here a little too often. Whose gunna make the first noise? We both usually hold off until I've got him pinned to the bed, blond hair sprawled like golden thread against filthy covers and its really where you can see his age. He's no older than sixteen and I'd bet my own twenty two years on it. I feel sick to my stomach but that's never stopped me before. I don't know if I can anymore. The pale skin that seems to glow by itself and light up with a flushed luminescent pink, the cherry swollen lips agape and ready for something more. His electrifying blue eyes hidden half lidded and foggy.

He's the prettiest doll I've ever seen and I wanna break him.

I slide forward with little to no resistance. He's slick and ready, as most dolls are for clients. I slide within the still tight heat and it shocks me every time. It makes me feel like I'm conquering new land and looking down at his twitching and already leaking cock between his lithe body and my own darker muscled stomach makes me so proud that I may have to worry about it later. I worry myself often these days. No words yet, just whimpering noises and the soft resonance of skin against skin and for now its simple. Its a slow rock, giving us time to really think. I often watch him drift into thought, our eyes locked through and through. Soon our challenge is forgotten and the room is lifted with noise. I've lost what little control I held by the reins since his lips were tightly wrapped around me like he was trying to suck my brain out through my dick and I'm fucking him like I hate him.

I do god fucking damn it I hate this boy.

He takes every single thrust like he was built for the blow and moans and shudders like he wants it all so I give it. I make him beg and go on the edge of tears til his chest is heaving rapidly and it looks as though the scars on his chest are coming to life. His nails dig into my shoulder and something else catches my train of thought; I cover his entire body with my own. He is small and lithe but flexible and toned. His toned legs wraps around my waist, aiding him in rocking with my thrusts to squeeze and milk my cock pistoling in and out of him. One of my hand splay on his chest and holds him down to the bed, covering almost every square inch of skin and blending what little showed in calm mixture with my darker tanned skin. His scars bleed in with my own and with one of his hands laying across mine on his chest, I know he senses it too. This unhealthy jolt that travels between us and that's all it takes. He's screaming my name at the top of his lungs and begging me to never stop, to own him and fill him up like my personal cum dumpster. To breed him like a two dollar pup. He doesn't have the slightest idea what I would do to be able to take him home. I never last long after he bonelessly relaxes onto the bed just taking every inch of me like it was a gift.

I don't question how he knows my name.

The simple cry of it was enough for my imagination and right hand to work it out alone til my next visit and instead I answer his mantra and make sure he'll remember me until my will breaks and I find myself at his mercy again. Something heavy and thick fills the room as I drag myself to get dressed and keep my eyes away from the pretty puddle on the bed watching me with perfect blue eyes. A flick of my wrist and the cash falls on the dresser, a foot already out.

_"Jacob....."_

I can't. My body stops but I know the moment I turn around this will all be too real. I need to quit. I keep walking and close the door behind me.

He'll be upset no doubt and I'll promise to stop coming here but we both know I'll be back next week and ask for him and he'll run to my service like my personal doll.

"Dillan..."


End file.
